


NEW YEAR'S HOSTILITY

by candidlyisha



Category: Kingsman (Movies), Taron Egerton - Fandom
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-03
Updated: 2019-01-03
Packaged: 2019-10-03 10:14:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17282147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/candidlyisha/pseuds/candidlyisha
Summary: Being with a hostile actor wasn't how you initially planned to spend when meeting the new year, but here you are.





	NEW YEAR'S HOSTILITY

  | 

     It isn't everyday that the squad is complete, so times like this is where you savour every second with your friends. This is your first new year celebration in London, and the girls are going bar hopping together with a squad of guys you've been with before but only once. Of course, you wouldn't want their vibe ruined, so you go with the flow; although, if you were to be asked, you would rather spend with the girls and the girls alone. You were upfront with them about it, but they tell you that this is a one time thing, and all of you will be going home to one of your friends' house as if it's an after-new year sleepover; you guys will be all alone later—though you know your friends damn well enough that you know one of them will break off, change their minds and go home with a guy from said group you're going to be in-tandem with for the night.  
  
     The club music is intense, you can feel your heart thumping to the rhythm. You feel the vibration invade the bottom of your feet despite the soles of your shoes being thick enough. The girls have already started on their drinks but you pass it off for now. It's only eight thirty-four, and you don't intend for the floor to be your new year's kiss out of being too drunk. In fact, you'd rather not even brush beneath the line of your alcohol limit. You get yourself a Shirley Temple from the bar, turn around and see your friends sharing a laugh as you pace carefully towards them, annoyed at the already-drunk people that keeps bumping onto you, so it leaves you no choice but to hurry before you run out of drink because people keep accidentally pushing themselves against you.  
  
     You heave a sigh and take a sip, tucking your lips in before leaning towards the center table where everyone's drinks are placed, and cynically ask "are you sure these guys aren't arseholes? I mean, I've only hung out with them once with you guys, and we only drank wine."  
  
     "They are very decent people, y/n. They just like to get pissed occasionally. They had been our drinking buddies for quite a while and trust me, they're fine."  
  
     "Well, here's what I'm betting: one of you actually fancies one of them, yeah?" You lean back and take another sip of your drink in a bitchy manner. "I'll have you know now, I'm rooting for one of you to be going home with one of them. It can't be helped if one of them's attractive or something. Perhaps, telegenic, even."  
  
     "Funny, you said telegenic, considering Taron," one of your friends is already raising her eyebrows. The rest have their mouths gaped open, realising the timely accuracy of your statement.  
  
     "Is Taron coming?" asks another one.  
  
     "Oh, Taron, huh?" You've been speaking almost a little too monotonous. Perhaps, a bit too confident as well. You said it yourself: it can't be helped if one of them is attractive, and you couldn't really help but think about Taron and his showbiz face saying that. You haven't really took the time to reevaluate yourself and what you might possibly do drunk, especially onto someone whom you loathe in the outside but slightly fancy on the inside. And you hate the feeling. You hope to god it will go away soon but after meeting him for the first time, your curiosity got the best of you, and now the feeling intensified even more upon seeing his performances. No one knows about this feeling, in fear that if you vocalise it officially, you will fall for this jerk.  
  
     The thing about Taron is that he has always been hostile around you. He laughs whenever your friends speak, but when you do, he always seem so disinterested. At times, he even fires back something with a strong tone, enough to make you feel that he does not like you at all. And this all happened at the first meeting with him.  
  
     "Here they come."  
  
     You turn a bit to catch a glimpse of the men you and your friends will be spending the new year with. One of your girls immediately run towards a boy in the group you recognise as Zoren, and give him a big hug. They all reach the table and begin greeting you.  
  
     "So y/n is finally here, huh? You know, last year, they couldn't stop mentioning your absence during events like this. Thank god you're in London now so that they can all shut up about it. Anyway, great to see more of you." He smiles. He is one of the guys who are very picturesque when he smiles, but he's not entirely your type. Perhaps, your friend does. He's stereotypical blond hair and blue eyes and tanned skin as if he often surfs. Put him in a Barbie box and you'll get a surfer Ken doll.  
  
     "Great to meet you too—" you say back but you're immediately interrupted by your friend.  
  
     "Taron! You actually made it!" She is looking at a guy with a brunet guy with such a chiseled face. In exaggeration, still the sharpest jawline you have ever seen. Basing on his face, he does not look as enthusiastic as the other smiling guys that he's accompanied with and you can't help but blame yourself for the unwilling look plastered on his face. Then, his eyes lay on you, and you could have sworn it rolled as if to say 'oh, she's here again. Greaaaaat.' You can hear the sarcastic tone of his voice already. You can hear his hateful retorts but you refuse to go defenseless this time. Every time he tries to attack you with unnecessary sass, you plan all responses to counter it. Maybe that will help out on pushing your feelings further away from you, enough until they are non-existent.  
  
      He sits across you, and a couple of guys next to you and your friends on the empty spaces in between them. You press on the lock button on your phone to check the time and it reads 8:58pm. Two of the guys take everyone's orders like servers, even getting their jackets drapped across their forearms. They reach you and you shake your head.  
  
     "Come on, y/n. Drink up!"  
  
      You still insist on not drinking, so you shake your head once again. "I will not."  
  
     "Killjoy," one of your friends mutter, but you can't tell who. You're too focused on the passive look on Taron's face and you observe a bit as he gazes down at his phone.  
  
     You decided to say something, though, despite not knowing who it was. "Hey, this is our first stop, jeez! All of you are getting drunk on the first stop? Really?"  
  
     "We're not even gonna get drunk now. A single drink won't hurt, jeez," Taron responds immediately, it makes your head tilt. Especially on his perfect imitation of your tone and him adding a bit of whine into it to mock you. The first time you meet this dude, he was already a bit of a hot-head. And he's still the same. He said all this with his eyes still glued on his phone. He appears like he's playing a game.  
  
     Still, you remain assertive. "Well, I can't think of anything to drink." You are staring at Taron, your eyes feline. His eyes...are still on his phone. He probably doesn't know nor care you're twitching your mouth already. You decide to just ignore the guy and turn back to the other guys. "Or...just get me a Chocolatini. If they do that here."  
  
     "Can't think of anything to drink but says Chocolatini after. Wow."  
  
     "Well, fuck, I'm just giving in to all of you, aren't I? After all, it's just a single drink, jeez." You roll your eyes this time, and everyone interrupts with "okay!" And other blabber before this gets worse and you begin to drag the collar of Taron's shirt outside the bar with him in it after getting in a typical bar-fight.  
  
     "Chocolatini, gotcha," says the boy you forgot the name of, but you know his hair changes like the weather. Like a band member. For the new year, he has dyed it soft green, and it weirdly suits him.  
  
     The boys leave and everyone begins to chat up about their lives. You see one of your friends twirling her hair whilst talking to Zoren, so you give her a knowing smile before leaning back and checking your phone, ignoring the hateful being before you. Or at least, trying to.  
  
  
◇

  
  
     This is your third and last stop with the folks. It's already eleven fifty-seven and you go to the sink to wash your hands since you accidentally spilled a bit of Chocolatini from your third round from it in this bar. You see someone on the sink, and upon closer inspection, it's Taron, and he's just washed his face?  
  
     "Are you done?" You ask, and you attempt to have your voice as strong, if not stronger, than his. "I need to wash my hands."  
  
     "Don't test me, y/n, I'm fucking drunk and I don't want to fight you." He steps away from the sink and you turn the water on.  
  
     "Funny you say that considering all this time, and all fucking night, you've been so unnecessarily hostile." You turn to look at him for a bit, but your hands still under the running water. "I don't understand why you hate me, or why you never gave me a chance because I sure as hell have given you plenty the first time we met." He remains behind you and watches you push for the liquid soap on the box on your left. He looks like he wants to say something but he doesn't, so you continue as you rinse off. "At least tell me what I did wrong so I can formally apologise, because I refuse to do so unless I know I've actually offended you. It doesn't matter if it's shallow. At least fucking tell me." You turn around, and your face is almost pressed on his chest—that's how close you two are already, so you take a step back. He reciprocates.  
  
     "Let's go upstairs. It's eleven fifty-eight. We're not missing the countdown and I sure as hell am not ending my year with this." You get shaken up as he grabs you gently by the wrist and drag you across the crowd heading upstairs. He grips tighter and tighter as the throng gets thicker like he doesn't want to lose track of you.  
  
     "Do you see them anywhere?" He asks, yelling because the music is too loud, and he is referring to your friends who were supposed to be waiting for you two at a certain area and are now nowhere to be found in the meeting place.  
  
     "No. I don't see anyone. There's too many people here!" You yell back.  
  
     And from here, you begin to accept the fact that you will be meeting the new year with the person that you aren't even in good terms with. Though, this has got to be the first time he talked to you without any trace of mockery and sarcasm. But he said it himself: he's not ending his year arguing with you, and you feel the same.  
  
     "All right, everyone, we got twenty seconds on the clock!" The person standing on the stage that has a massive timer in it says. _18, 17, 16_ flashes on it in red and Taron sighs.  
  
     "Fuck's sake!" He takes a deep breath in and looks at you. "I'm sorry. I'm...really fucking sorry. For everything."  
  
     "Why the fuck were you so mean, then?"  
  
     "Ten! Nine! Eight!" The people around you chants. The world is blurring, everything else is muffled as he rests his hand on the side of your neck, and from here, you already catch a hint on what can possibly happen.  
  
     "Six! Five! Four! Three! Two!" They continue to chant. When they collectively cry out "one!" You tip your toes instinctively, leaning towards him, and Taron presses his lips against yours. Your eyes are open in shock but seeing his closed, you choose to savour the moment as well, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing your palm gently against his nape.  
  
     He pulls back, and so do you. Sending the rest of your feet back on the ground and breathing heavily and nervously.  
  
     "I guess the feelings are reciprocated, yeah?"  
  
     "You are a fucking dick, Taron Egerton. You could've just said you liked me," you say jokingly, but you can't help but blush a little.  
  
     "I didn't know to express it. I'm so sorry. I was trying to push it away because I was not currently ready to like someone again. I've had enough heartbreak last year that I'm a little...traumatised. And you frankly look like someone who can break a heart like that."  
  
     "I certainly am not breaking yours." You clear your throat. "Well, at least you got that urge out of your system," you reply as you look around, still looking for your friends. Your eyes land on the place where you guys are supposed to meet and they're there. _They are all there._  
  
     And they are all staring at the two of you intently, their jaws on the ground.  
  
     "Taron...I think I found them." You look at him again as he glances at the spot where the squad is seated. "Let's go." You try to walk away with him, but he softly grips on your arm to stop you.  
  
     "Can we start over? I was fucked up. I'm sorry.  
  
     "Just promise me you'll never be a jerk like that again. To anyone."  
  
     "Yes. And y/n?"  
  
     "What?"  
  
     "I wanna be ready." He bites his lower lip and looks around the place. "I...honestly think I'm ready."  
  
     You narrow your eyes a little bit. "Let's get to know each other first. Decently this time. No more shade, no more sass."  
  
     He just nods.  
  
     "Then we'll figure it out from here," you smile at him with a wink, finally before taking his hand and leading him towards your group of friends who still looks incredibly stunned. As if they have all seen a ghost.

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